Drowning
by Nienyan
Summary: As Richard watched the one person he ever loved slip away, a bitter storm overwhelmed him. All that remains is gasping any air he can find, even when every breath tears at his ravaged lungs. [Post L&L, Richard/Asbel, Malik/Richard]
1. Tempest

**Chapter 1: Tempest**

It was a party worthy of a king.

Of course, nothing less could be expected. Richard himself had planned it, going as far as to host it in the castle itself. The decoration was stunning, with a flower motif centered around sopherias; small arrangements rested on pristine white tablecloths, specially embroidered with pink and purple for the occasion. The buffet table was so exuberant that disrupting it would be a shame... if it wasn't for the enticing smell of the incredible assortment of dishes.

Yes, everything was as perfect as it could possibly be; some would even argue that such level of perfection was beyond reasonable bounds. It was hard to believe that such a lavish celebration had so few guests. But it was, after all, a private party, restricted to close friends. The real event, huge and open to the public, was still many months away. In a way, this was merely a preview - a glimpse of what was to come.

This was Asbel and Cheria's engagement party.

The room was filled with laughter, and the atmosphere was as merry as ever. No matter where Richard looked, all he could see were smiles. He himself wore a wide grin. Yes... _wore_ was the keyword. His happiness did not go farther than his mask. And for every moment that his face spent contorted into a smile, his chest hurt with unbearable pain.

However, Richard kept it all inside, as he always did. He was used to it, far too used to it. Wearing a mask was almost second nature to him, and yet it never ceased to hurt. But then again, suffering was also something he had grown used to.

Still, on the outside, he was the cheerful king that everyone knew well. His act was far too careful for anyone to notice any signs he might have given away. Only an occasional twitch of his lips, a subtle distance in his gaze, a vague tenseness in his hands - little things unworthy of notice. Most would blame it on the excessive amount of wine he had been drinking; which, in turn, could easily be tied to the festive spirit of the night.

However, a pair of observant eyes did not leave Richard. To those eyes, even the smallest signs were clear. They were, after all, eyes that were used to watching him; eyes that knew who _he_ always watched. Eyes that already predicted his pain.

Malik's eyes.

He watched as Richard held his wine glass with trembling hands. As subtle as the trembling was, it felt like an earthquake to Malik. He could hardly bear seeing Richard like this; if there was one thing he wanted, it was for Richard to finally be happy.

Though in truth... there were quite a lot of _other_ things he wanted, as well. Things involving Richard. But they were all improper, impossible, unacceptable. He limited them to his fantasies, blamed them on his old age. Malik had had his fair share of women - and even men - in the past, and maybe he was growing bored. Maybe he was resorting to desiring kings.

However, at times like these, when he saw Richard's eyes so full of longing and pain, he couldn't help but feel his own chest hurt. And all his excuses crumbled around him, his own denial suddenly so obvious and pathetic. He knew his feelings were real and targeted at a very specific person, and internally laughed at how improper his choices of romance always were. He laughed, in resignation and melancholy.

If he tried to meddle with what he shouldn't, Richard could end up like Lorelia and Kurt.

Bitter, Malik drank. His eyes never left Richard. It was a piercing gaze, one that couldn't fail to be noticed. On the brief moments Richard's eyes wandered from Asbel, he would catch Malik staring at him. But Richard was a subtle man, and he never let that knowledge be clear.

In truth, he had realized the way Malik looked at him long before. It was something Richard had always pretended not to see, pushing it to the back of his mind. His thoughts never lingered on it - not until now.

For the first time, he found himself looking back into his eyes.

It was a strange, almost disturbing, sensation. He had never really _seen_ the way Malik looked at him. He never allowed himself to think about it. But now he saw... A gaze that he had always wanted to see. Except it belonged to the wrong person.

Asbel would never look at him like this, no matter how hard he wished for it. Yes, Asbel was leaving, withdrawing from his reach forever; he made his choice on who would be the person to stand by his side for the rest of his days... And that person was not Richard.

He looked into Malik's eyes again. It was hard to believe that someone could look at him like this, especially someone who knew of the wretched deeds he had done in the past. Malik had nothing to gain by desiring him. Suitable noblewomen eyed Richard wanting the throne; daring noblemen eyed him seeking to gain favor. But Malik only saw him.

Richard's eyes turned to Asbel once more. Asbel, in the distance, with his lovely fiancée in one of his arms. It _hurt_.

If only Richard could forget it all. Erase what he had felt, what had consumed him, what would consume him until nothing remained. If only he could drown the pain, even if for a single minute.

Malik was approaching. Something in Richard's eyes must have given his thoughts away. He looked down in shame, at the blood red liquid swirling in his glass - how much wine had he drunk? - until Malik stopped by his side. He refused to look up, afraid of what he would do. His body barely seemed to be under his control.

All he wanted was to look at Asbel, but he knew the sight would only bring more pain.

"Your Highness." Malik's voice sounded distant despite his proximity. Richard turned to him, slowly, feeling his mask crack. His smile was already long gone, and he could not summon it back.

"Your Highness," Malik repeated, "It is getting late. May I escort you to your chambers?"

Once more, Richard's eyes fell to his glass. It was empty - when did he down the rest of his drink? - and he placed it on a nearby table. "Thank you, Malik, but I... I will remain here a while longer." In his mind, his empty, dark room felt oppressive. He would rather stay in the remains of the party, forcing himself to keep his head, instead of losing it in the loneliness of his chamber.

"Then," Malik started, "would you rather accompany me to mine?"

Richard's breathing ceased for a moment at Malik's words. He looked into his eyes - eyes that saw him in the way he wished Asbel would see him. Asbel... It was stupid to believe Richard could forget him. He never would. Asbel would consume every of his thoughts, like he always did.

...So, maybe, Richard could have some solace by ceasing to think.

He looked at Malik once more. Not a word left Richard's lips. His eyes were resigned and sorrowful as he, finally, nodded weakly, and followed Malik into a corridor.

* * *

The door closed with a soft click. Malik took a moment to admire the luxurious guest room, and then turned to the man by his side. Richard stood, impassive and with vacant eyes. For a moment, Malik feared he had changed his mind, but his apprehension melted away as Richard began removing his gloves. He then stored them in his pockets, and shot an anxious glance at Malik before looking down again.

Malik quickly removed his own gloves, and then raised one of his hands to Richard's chin, tilting his head up. Moving slowly, he leaned down to kiss him.

However, before his lips could touch Richard's, the younger man jerked away. "No." Richard voice was subdued, his gaze locked on the floor. "I'm sorry, Malik. But not this."

Malik nodded in understanding, trying to hide his disappointment. Richard gave him another quick, nervous glance, and began undoing his cravat. Malik watched eagerly as his slender, pale neck came into view - that was the highest amount of skin he had ever seen the king displaying. He wondered if Richard would be opposed to kisses there.

The cravat fell on the closest piece of furniture, and Richard moved on to his coat and vest. Malik's anticipation was growing steadily, a hot feeling welling in his gut. Once the vest was out of the way, and delicate fingers began unbuttoning the creamy white undershirt, Malik was forced to interrupt.

"Your Highness, may I...?"

Richard's hands stopped and fell to his side. Malik's own fingers rushed to finish their job, but he took his time on each button, admiring every inch of revealed skin. Once the shirt lay open, Malik paused, feeling his heart increase in pace and his breathing grow heavier.

Without peeling his eyes from Richard's chest, he asked once more, "Your Highness, may-"

The voice that interrupted him was harsh. "You may do whatever you want, Malik."

Richard's words destroyed whatever was left of Malik's hesitation, allowing his repressed desire to run free. His lips immediately went to Richard neck, while his hands ran along his torso, feeling every subtle curve of skin and muscle. Malik kissed his neck ferociously, making up for the fact that he wasn't allowed to touch Richard's lips. Then, he started making a slow descent, as if seeking to kiss every inch of his chest. He took his time with the nipples, hoping to get a response from Richard, but not a sound escaped him. Trailing kisses over his stomach, his hands moved down, feeling the front of Richard's pants. To Malik's disappointment, he realized his efforts barely had any effect on him.

Unwilling to concede, Malik began rubbing him over the fabric. Keeping the motion, he raised himself again to lick and bite Richard's left nipple, hoping that the combined actions would be enough to get something out of him. Malik heard Richard's breathing get heavier, and his member hardened a little under his hand, but that was all. If he were Asbel, everything would go so different...

But he was not. So all he could do was kneel, as his hands undid Richard's pants. However, before he could pull them down, Richard took a step away from him.

Malik looked up in confusion. Richard remained silent for a moment, his arms nervously pressed against his chest. He wasn't looking at Malik, as always.

Finally, he spoke. "It's uncomfortable to stand. I would rather... I would rather use the bed."

Malik nodded meekly and stood up, watching as Richard moved to sit on the edge of the mattress. He crossed his legs and began working on removing one of his boots. Malik quickly shuffled to kneel in front of him once more, and said softly, "I will handle it, Your Highness." Then, gently, he took one of Richard's hands in his own, and brought it to his lips.

Richard violently snatched his hand away, almost hitting Malik in the process. "Don't, Malik." - His expression resembled that of a wounded animal - "Don't play the knight."

"I'm... I'm sorry," Malik replied bashfully.

An anxious silence followed. Richard held the back of his hand as if it had been injured, and only when he finally let go did Malik dare to touch his boots. He removed them quickly and then did the same to his own, while Richard shuffled on the bed to lean against the pillows. Malik made for his bag and rummaged through it, hoping he had some unused gel base. Thankfully, he did. Bringing the jar with him, he walked towards the bed.

His eyes fell on Richard, and Malik could not fail to notice how apprehensive he looked. His fingers fidgeted over his stomach, and his eyes were locked on the ceiling... No, not on the ceiling. On someone far away.

Malik considered asking him to go. He knew he was taking advantage of Richard. And yet... Malik's eyes traveled along the form of his legs, clear under the tight fabric of his pants. They stopped on his chest and stomach, which were moving softly with his breathing. And finally, he looked at the golden hair and the face it framed, still beautiful despite the anguished expression.

When was the last time Malik desired someone this much?

He crawled over the bed, stopping by Richard's side; as he expected, Richard did not move a muscle. Malik's first impulse was to lean down and kiss him, but he knew the response he would get. Therefore, he moved to spread Richard's legs and sit between them. He waited a moment to see if Richard would protest, but he remained in silence. Taking it as consent, Malik pulled his pants and underwear just enough to free his member.

He realized all his earlier efforts had been lost after his blunder. Cursing in the back of his mind, he leaned down, hoping his mouth would make up for it.

Richard trembled slightly at the first touch, but for the rest of it, he remained immobile and silent. Malik had no indication that Richard was feeling anything, other than the fact he was growing hard in his mouth. He dared to look up, and found Richard with his eyes closed, fingers gripping the sheets. Malik was tempted to guide Richard's hands to his hair, wanting to feel those slender fingers caressing him, but he knew Richard would not comply. Malik's hair was far too different from the auburn locks he was certainly thinking of.

Once Richard was hard enough, Malik pulled away. It took a while for Richard to open his eyes, and Malik only received a nervous glance before he looked at the ceiling again. Holding back a sigh, Malik's hands went to his hips. Richard understood and raised them enough for Malik to remove the rest of his clothes.

Malik leaned back, taking a moment to admire the naked body in front of him. He wished he could simply sit there and _look_ at Richard for a while, but he was sure this would make the younger man uncomfortable. Without a choice, he retrieved the gel base.

"Your Highness, I will... prepare you, if you would allow me."

Richard nodded weakly, his eyes not daring to meet Malik's.

Gathering a generous amount of gel in his fingers, Malik couldn't fail to notice that he was still fully clothed; he had only bothered removing gloves and boots. For a moment, he considered stopping and undressing, but given Richard's efforts on _not_ looking at him, getting naked would probably only aggravate the situation. It was better to remain as he was.

Malik shuffled closer to Richard, placing his fingers at his entrance. Richard flinched at his touch, but Malik did not back away, and pushed gently until the first finger could slip inside. To make the process less unpleasant for Richard - and guarantee that his previous efforts were not wasted again - Malik took his free hand to Richard's member and rubbed it in a slow rhythm. He felt the ring of muscle around his finger ease considerably, and tried adding a second one. It went in without trouble.

Both of Malik's hands moved in rhythm, until he was satisfied with his work and withdrew his fingers from inside Richard. Keeping one hand on his arousal, Malik used the other to finally open his uncomfortably tight pants, and then proceeded to coat his erection with the gel base. Once he was done, he let go of Richard's member, moving to kneel between his legs. Malik held his hips with both hands, and lifted him enough so he could position himself against his entrance.

Softly, he asked, "Your Highness, may I-"

"_Stop_ calling me _that_," Richard snapped, his voice shaky. "And I told you to do whatever you want."

Malik was frozen for a moment. Then, without warning, he pushed inside.

Richard's fingers dug into the pillows as each inch entered him. Malik considered stopping and asking if he was okay, if he was sure he wanted to keep going, if the pain wasn't too much... But such questions would certainly earn Malik another harsh reproach. So he kept pushing slowly, until he was fully inside.

Then, he paused. Richard's knuckles were white, his skin glistening with sweat. Malik waited for a while, only until Richard's breathing evened a little, and then moved away slowly. After another pause, he thrust deep inside him.

Richard gasped, digging his fingers further into his pillow. Malik shifted a little, trying to gain a better angle, and gave a shallower thrust. Richard kept his eyes locked shut as Malik started a series of small thrusts, occasionally moving Richard's hips or his own body to switch angles. Eventually, he found one that made Richard bite his lower lip and shudder slightly, as if trying to suppress a moan. Keeping the same angle, he moved back and stopped. Then, he thrust, fast and deep.

Malik got the desired effect: Richard arched his back and moaned loudly. Malik did not stop, keeping the pace swift and intense. After the first, unexpected thrust, Richard managed to hold back any sound, but his struggle to do so was obvious. While Malik wished Richard would be more expressive, he was glad to be able to please his king.

Malik felt his climax drawing close, and from the way Richard's muscles clenched around him, it was clear he felt the same way. Maybe this was not a lost cause. Maybe... maybe Malik had a chance. If things kept going like this, he would make Richard forget... He would mend his heart. He grew more optimistic with every thrust, with every wave of pleasure that coursed his body. Yes, he would make Richard happy. He was sure of it.

While Malik was lost in thought, Richard came with a cry. Malik felt Richard's legs wrap around his body, felt the increased pressure on his member, saw Richard arch his back and tremble softly.

But Malik no longer felt any pleasure. The sound of Richard's voice had overwhelmed all of his other senses. In his ears, the name Richard cried out still resounded.

_Asbel._


	2. Depths

**Chapter 2: Depths**

Malik felt empty.

He still had the pressure of his unreleased climax in his gut, but that was a minor discomfort. The pressure in his chest was far worse.

He watched as Richard slowly climbed out of the bed, walking across the room with his gaze on the floor. His arms were pressed against his torso, and his posture slouched. He barely looked like the regal king that could captivate every pair of eyes in a room. Seeing Richard _slouch_ made for a shocking sight.

The cowering blond man - it was hard to think of him as a king in that situation - took his clothing and his boots and disappeared into the bathroom. Malik heard the sound of water within, and concluded he was cleaning himself. It was understandable. He had just lain with a filthy man.

Being already fully dressed, all Malik had to do was button his pants. They did not feel tight anymore. Richard's cry when he climaxed took care of that.

He waited on the edge of the bed for Richard to come out. Malik convinced himself that nothing would happen, but deep down, he hoped Richard would at least talk to him. Even if it was just a single word. He just wanted to hear his voice, saying _something_ other than Asbel's name.

The bathroom door opened, and Richard stepped out. In the tight-fitted attire, he did not slouch anymore, but his eyes were still downcast. His gloved fingers fidgeted, and he opened his mouth, but closed it before any sound came out. Then, he shuffled out of the room, without as much as glancing at Malik.

* * *

Despite the luxurious bed, Malik had a sleepless night. Whenever he closed his eyes, his time with Richard would play repeatedly in his head, and guilt kept him awake. He greeted the sun with sullen eyes; it was in resentment that he dressed, packed, and left his room.

But he had somewhere to stop by before he hit the road.

Malik made for Richard's quarters. However, before he could knock on the king's door, a servant intercepted him.

"Are you looking for His Highness, Ambassador Malik?"

"I am. Is he not in his room?"

"His Highness is in the study, working. I'm afraid he's too busy to see anyone."

Malik frowned. "This early? Are you sure? If you could announce my-"

"His Highness gave me specific orders not to disturb him. He wishes to be left alone." His voice was dry. "Now, you should head to your carriage, Ambassador. The journey to Fendel is a long one." Without another word, he turned and left.

Defeated, Malik did as he was told. The sun shone as he left the castle, but he could swear the day was dark.

And, for the following weeks, dark they remained. Guilt loomed in thoughts and dreams, troubling his sleep and his work. Until, finally, he received the order he was waiting for: a diplomatic visit to Barona.

The trip felt stressing and tedious, despite the fact Malik was more than used to traveling. When he finally stepped out of the ship in Port Barona, he almost broke into a run towards the castle. However, he knew Richard was unlikely to see him before the appointed hour, so there was no point in rushing.

Time seemed to drag as he settled in the guestroom at the castle. He waited, trying to keep himself from glancing at the clock too often. After a while, he headed to the conference room early; it could help quench his anxiety, and arriving before the king was always polite.

As he expected, Richard made his entrance with flawless punctuality.

And he looked... regal. Controlled. Decisive. In other words, he seemed just like himself. Malik breathed a sigh of relief; Richard must have been able to overcome his heartbreak, and judging from the carefree way he was acting, he opted to ignore their awkward night together. Well, it was probably for the best. Discussing it would make for a quite uncomfortable situation.

Still... there was something strange about him. Something... off. While his eyes did not hesitate to meet Malik's anymore, they seemed distant when they did so. In addition, Richard would occasionally trail off, or ask a council member to repeat himself. Being distracted during a meeting - or being distracted _at all_ - was awfully unlike him.

And he looked tired. It was true that Richard tended to overwork himself, but he always had an aura of relentless dedication about him, and even when his eyes were surrounded by dark circles, they were sharp and attentive. Today, his skin was clear, but his gaze was that of an exhausted man. His eyes were dull and resigned.

Malik tried to brush it off as his imagination, but found himself worrying about Richard. And yet, what could he do? His last attempt at comforting him had been disastrous, at best. He wouldn't be surprised if Richard wanted to avoid being alone with him from now on.

Malik focused on the rest of the meeting. When it was over, he went straight to his chamber.

* * *

Dinner was served in a small dining room, where Malik ate alone. The rich food was bland in his mouth, and he couldn't bring himself to eat much before he returned to his quarters. He had been working on his report to Chancellor Eigen when there was very soft knocking on his door. Grumbling, he stood and opened it.

It was Richard.

Malik was frozen for a moment, staring wide-eyed at the king. Then, he finally remembered his manners, and stammered, "Y-Your Highness, please come in."

Richard stepped into the room, and Malik closed the door behind him. The king smelled faintly of alcohol, and when Malik paid attention, he realized his lips were tinted red. Wine.

Malik had to keep himself from frowning in concern before saying, "Your Highness... how have you been?"

"I'm fine," Richard replied coldly. His eyes were locked on the floor, or on the walls, or...

"...Have you talked to Asbel?"

Malik's words left his lips before he could hold them back. Richard winced as if he had been struck by a blow, and he turned on his heels, making for the door.

Malik shuffled behind him, "Your Highness, I'm sorry, I..."

"I did not come here to chat," Richard interrupted with a broken voice, "If that is what you want, I will leave-"

His words faded as Malik grasped his shoulders and pinned him against the door, pressing a forceful kiss to his lips. Richard did not react, remaining still and unresponsive as Malik's mouth furiously moved against his. When Malik tried to slip his tongue inside, Richard immediately pushed him away.

"I... I told you, Malik... Not this," he muttered, wiping his lips with the back of his hand.

"I-I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking." He watched as Richard walked past him, stopping with his back towards him. "Forgive me, Your Highness. It won't happen again, I prom-"

He realized Richard was removing his gloves.

Malik took hesitant steps towards him. He was now undoing his cravat. Malik gently placed his hands over his shoulders, but Richard pushed them aside.

"I do not need your help," he said, not turning to him.

Richard removed his coat, then began unbuttoning his vest. Malik debated what he should do for a moment, and settled on stripping as well. He carelessly dropped his clothing on the floor while Richard arranged his royal attire neatly on the couch. When the king was finally done, Malik had already been waiting for a while.

Richard glanced at Malik and quickly looked away from his naked figure. Malik felt self-conscious for a moment, knowing that watching Richard strip so slowly had made him hard. But Richard still went ahead and silently climbed on the bed, giving Malik enough confidence to go settle beside him.

They sat cross-legged over the sheets. Richard faced away from Malik, hands fidgeting nervously. Malik waited for a moment, hoping Richard would turn; once it was clear he would not, Malik moved closer to sit directly behind him. He slipped his right hand around Richard's waist, closing his fingers on his soft member and rubbing it lightly. With his left hand, he brushed golden hair away from his neck to plant kisses over his pale skin, while his hand moved on to tease one of his nipples. Malik worked slowly to arouse him, and with time he felt Richard grow hard in his hand. Enjoying the contact, he did not stop, letting his hand move along Richard's chest and stomach, then on to his thigh-

"...Th-That's enough, Malik," he mumbled, pulling away from him.

Disappointed, Malik watched as Richard shuffled on the bed, positioning himself... to lie on his front. Malik frowned; Richard didn't even want to face him. How foolish Malik was to believe he had a chance into his heart...

Defeated, Malik took the gel base. "It might be best if you raise your hips, Your Highness. Support your weight on your elbows and knees."

Richard remained still for a moment, then hesitantly did as he was told. Malik began preparing him, and when the first finger slipped inside, Richard lowered his upper body to bury his face in his pillow. Since his hips remained raised, Malik ignored it and went on with his work. Once he was done, he rose to stand on his knees and coated himself. Then, holding Richard's hips, he positioned his arousal on his entrance and slowly pushed inside.

He waited less than the previous time before he began thrusting, and his rhythm increased at a faster pace. Even so, with the way Richard pressed his face against the pillow, he couldn't hear a sound from him.

...At least Malik wouldn't have to hear him screaming another man's name.

Feeling his finish draw close, Malik leaned down and gave Richard's arousal long strokes. This time, Malik didn't hold back, and he came first, riding out his climax inside Richard as he rubbed him faster. He heard a muffled moan and felt his hand grow wet with warm liquid, cuing him to slow down to a stop.

Malik was still panting when Richard moved away from him, making his softening member slide out of his warm body to feel the uncomfortably cold air. Again, he watched as Richard immediately crawled out of the bed and took his clothing to the bathroom. His steps were unsteady under his still trembling legs.

For a while, Malik stared at the closed bathroom door, as if in a trance. The sound of water within brought him to reality, and he realized he had to dress himself. He was shuffling out of the bed when he caught something in the corner of his eye. Something in Richard's pillow.

Taking a closer look, he saw it was wet with tears.

All the guilt he had felt before returned to him. How could he forget how broken Richard was? How could he take advantage of him again? It was true Richard had been the one to approach him this time, but that did not mean he had been feeling any better. In truth, it probably meant the opposite. How desperate must he have been to come to Malik for this?

This time, Malik wouldn't let him leave. Not like this. He would talk to him, try to understand his pain, help him overcome it. Show him that his actions were only furthering his misery. Malik knew well how drowning in self-pity felt, and he could use his experience to comfort Richard - with his words rather than his body.

He jumped out of bed and dressed quickly. Then, he waited patiently for Richard to come out. This time, he was determined to do the right thing, no matter what it took.

Richard emerged with sunken eyes. His gaze avoided Malik, as usual - and, as before, he did not speak a word. His steps seemed hurried, and yet he moved slowly under his exhausted body; moved to leave without a word.

But this time, Malik would stop him.

"Your Highness, wait..."

Richard did not turn. Instead, he hastened his pace towards the door.

"Please, Your Highness..."

Richard's hand was on the doorknob. He ignored the voice that pleaded to him.

Malik realized Richard wouldn't listen, not unless he forced him. If he took a step forward and held one of his arms, screamed at him at the top of his lungs, showed him how wrong he was...

Asbel would do it all in a heartbeat. He wouldn't care that Richard was his king; before anything, they were friends. Asbel would ignore any formality, overcome any barrier, if it meant helping Richard.

But Malik wasn't Asbel. He couldn't do it.

The door closed in front of him, and Richard was gone.

* * *

Richard walked as fast as his weak legs could carry him. He felt it creeping upon him; it always did at night. It used to arrive later, when he was attempting to sleep, but what he had just done must have triggered an early arrival. Guilt ushered it to come sooner.

He felt the familiar pressure in his chest, as if invisible hands were reaching inside him to twist his lungs. They rose to his throat, tried to choke him. They covered his eyes and made his vision blurry. They fiddled with his ears and created sounds, dark whispers of the feelings he was trying to suppress.

Finally, he reached his room. As soon as he closed the door behind him, he allowed it to overtake him.

Richard wept.

Muffled, broken sobs resounded in the quietness of his room. He leaned against the door, feeling his legs give under his weight. Slowly, he slid to the floor, sitting with his head against his knees. His chest trembled as tears fell.

It had become a ritual Richard unwillingly performed every night. He had tried to endure at first, holding back as much as he could, but every time he would break before long. Eventually, he gave up and let it take over him.

And, whenever it happened, Richard felt pathetic. He always knew there was no chance Asbel would return his feelings, so why should his engagement bring him so much pain? Was it because Richard was a selfish man who couldn't stand seeing his loved one with someone else? Before, he had convinced himself that seeing Asbel happy was all that mattered, going as far as persuading him to propose. But it turned out Richard was even more deplorable than he thought; now that the deed was done, he was rotting with jealousy, bitter over the fact that he wasn't the one making Asbel happy.

Or maybe he was scared. Afraid of the chance that Asbel would no longer have time for him. Terrified of the fact that, while Asbel was the world to him, someone else was _his_ world. Even though he knew he was undeserving of Asbel's love...

Richard bit his lip, feeling his shaking intensify. It was always the same cycle of bitter thoughts, the same self-hatred, and the same knowledge that, with each passing day, he only thought more and more about Asbel. And, if that wasn't enough, today he used Malik's feelings again. He had tried his hardest to resist, but the emptiness in his chest had been overwhelming, and before he knew it, he was knocking on his door. And then it all only spiraled further downward. Did he have to spread his misery to others, too?

His sobbing started to grow too strong for him to think, and his mind fell into a simple pattern of guilt and longing. For a while, he remained like this, until his chest was too tired to produce another sound. His crying died down, and left him with a crushing sensation of nothingness. When tears stopped falling, it was the time he felt most lonely.

Richard realized his back hurt from shaking against the hard wooden door. He struggled to stand, his legs feeling even weaker than they did before. Not bothering to change out of his clothing or even remove his boots, he staggered to his bed and dropped over it. He knew sleep wouldn't come any time soon, but he was tired.

Too tired.

* * *

In the following morning, Malik left without bothering to speak with Richard. He knew what his attendant would say if he tried to request an audience with him.

He felt guilty, but his guilt was overpowered by a deep feeling of resignation; he had realized he couldn't help Richard. Being powerless left him with a bitter taste in his mouth. Was hoping for Richard to recover really all he could do?

Malik had to work hard to push his apprehension away from his mind for the following days. Unfortunately, the new trade agreement between Windor and Fendel would require him to meet constantly with Richard, and he had a number of trips to Barona scheduled in the months to come. The idea of facing Richard again was unsettling, and the chance of Richard knocking on his door at night was terrifying.

Terrifying, for Malik knew he wouldn't be able to resist him. And, worst of all, he wouldn't be able to keep him from leaving without a word.

The next meeting arrived, followed by another night of knocking on his door. It was carried out in the same way as before, the only difference being that Richard seemed even more miserable. And every one of their following meetings had the same outcome. Each and every time, Richard seemed to have sunk deeper into his grief.

Malik grew afraid. Afraid that Richard would never be the same, afraid that he would never go back to who he was. Richard had dug himself into a hole that was growing too deep for him to escape, and eventually, it could only cave in. Then, what would Richard do? How far could he go when driven by pain?

The answer to that question terrorized Malik. His good intentions would be useless if Richard brought something upon himself that could not be undone. But, at the same time, Malik was helpless. Richard would never listen to him. And even if he did, what comfort could someone like Malik provide when Richard was so ruined? What comfort could _anyone_ provide?

Yes. Malik was sure no one would be able to mend Richard now.

No one... but Asbel.


	3. Resurfacing

**Chapter 3: Resurfacing**

It was late afternoon when Malik arrived at Lhant Manor. Sophie had been gardening, and she broke into a run as soon as she saw her adored captain in the distance.

When she reached him, Malik lifted her in a tight embrace, chuckling and saying, "You're too big now, Sophie. These old bones won't put up with your weight for very long."

Sophie was back on the ground, smiling. "It's not nice to talk about a girl's weight, Captain," she said, playfully pointing a finger at him.

"Oh? Judging from that gesture, I suppose you learned that from Cheria."

"Yes," she replied, giggling, "I saw her scolding Asbel about it."

Malik's smile grew stale as he remembered the purpose of his visit. "Is Asbel inside, Sophie? I need to talk to him."

Sophie nodded, taking Malik's hand and dragging him to the manor. Once they were inside, Sophie gave the hall a quick glance, and found it empty. She paused, took a deep breath, and bellowed, _"Asbeeeel!"_

The study door burst open, revealing a flushed young lord.

"Sophie?! Are you okay?" His eyes were wide, but once he realized the girl was perfectly fine, he exhaled in relief. "I told you to stop screaming like that, Sophie. You'll scare me to death one day." Then, he finally seemed to notice the guest by her side. "Oh, hey, Captain."

"Hello, Asbel. I see things here are as lively as always."

"You could say that." He gave a weary sigh. "Um... I'm finishing up some paperwork. Can you give me five minutes?"

"Of course," Malik replied, and Asbel disappeared behind the door.

Sophie stood in silence by his side, wiping dirt from her dress. Once she realized Malik was looking at her, she said, "Asbel has been working a lot lately."

"He did have dark circles around his eyes," Malik pointed out. Then, glancing around, he added, "Where's Cheria?"

"She's out on relief work," Sophie replied, "There's a lot she needs to do before the wedding."

"Oh? And who is planning it?"

"Granny Kerri!"

Malik smiled. He wondered what the former Lady of Lhant thought of her new title.

A soft click claimed Malik's attention, and he turned to see Asbel opening the study's door. "Sorry to leave you waiting," Asbel said, "You can come in now."

Sophie waved and hopped back to the garden, leaving the two men alone. Malik followed Asbel inside, closing the door after him.

Asbel sat behind his desk. "So, what is it? Border, trade? I hope it isn't bad news..."

Malik was awed for a moment. Since when did Asbel become so focused in his work? Judging by his appearance, it seemed as if he hadn't left his study much in the last few weeks. And his expression was so... tired. Where was his usual bright smile?

"This isn't a business visit, Asbel."

The lord blinked in confusion. "Oh. Oh! I'm sorry. Let's go outside, then. I'll ask Frederic to bring us something to eat. ...Are you going to stay overnight? I can have the guestroom prepared."

Malik smiled. "Don't fret, Asbel. I'm only stopping by. Thought it would be a good idea to check on my dear former student, see?"

Asbel returned the smile weakly. "Thanks, Captain." He paused, his gaze falling to hands that fidgeted over his lap. "So... any news?"

"At my age? Nothing interesting." He chuckled, but Asbel's smile faded. Indeed, there was something very wrong with him. He kept fidgeting, his eyes flicking between Malik and his own hands, as if he was anxious about something.

"What about you, Asbel? Anything you would like to share?"

"Oh... I guess life at my age is pretty boring, too," he replied with a forced smile. There was a long pause until he finally continued, "Are you on your way to Barona?"

Malik took a deep breath. "No, I'm on my way to Fendel. I left Barona today."

Asbel froze. His hands stopped moving, and he leaned his body forward, sitting on the edge of his chair. "How... How is Richard doing?"

"Asbel... When was the last time you spoke to His Highness?"

There was another pause, during which Asbel began fidgeting again. Malik finally noticed he was holding a golden ring set with a green cryas stone. Asbel took a deep breath and started, "I haven't spoken to him since the party," - he looked down at the ring, and slipped it into one of his fingers - "I wanted to talk to him the morning after," - he removed the ring and went back to fiddling with it - "but he said he was busy and sent me away." As his voice faded, his hands ceased to move. He held on tightly to the ring, trembling softly from the tension in his muscles.

Malik sighed in frustration. "Asbel... You should visit him."

"Visit him?" He looked up, bringing the ring close to his chest. "No, he's... he's probably busy." His gaze fell. "I wouldn't want to trouble him."

"You asked me how he was doing, Asbel. And he isn't well. I'm sure he would want to see you."

Asbel looked at him with anxious eyes, before looking down again and shaking his head solemnly. "I... I don't think so, Captain. If he needed me, he'd call for me. I don't think he wants to see me."

Malik frowned, his patience growing short. "What makes you think that, Asbel? Has King Richard ever _not_ wanted to see you?"

"That morning. He didn't want to see me." Asbel's voice was barely a whisper. "I sent him a letter a week later. He never replied." He looked up at Malik with pleading eyes. "I don't know what to _do_, Captain. He's angry at me, and I have no idea why-"

He was interrupted as Malik stood up, pounding his fists on the wooden desk.

"Asbel, you _fool!_ He's _in love_ with you, and it's killing him! _That's_ why he sent you away! And if you keep refusing to see him, heavens know what he will do to himself!"

Asbel's eyes widened. The green cryas ring slipped from his fingers and fell to the floor with a soft clink.

* * *

"Your Highness? Your Highness, may I come in?"

Silence.

"...Your Highness?"

Richard lifted his head from a trade permit, startled. How long had his attendant been calling for him?

"Yes. Come in."

The door opened and a servant shuffled inside. He breathed a sigh of relief upon seeing his king was alive, and only then he remembered to bow. After an almost unnecessarily long reverence, he finally said, "You have a visitor, Your Highness."

Richard placed the unread document on his desk, keeping himself from frowning. He didn't remember scheduling anything today; his memory couldn't be failing to this point...

Clearing his throat, he asked, "And the visitor is?"

The servant blinked, as if surprised by his monarch's question. "Lord Asbel, Your Highness."

There was a gasp. Not Richard's - but his attendant's, who hadn't been able to repress his shock at seeing the king rise from his seat with enough abruptness to knock the chair back. Richard froze for a moment, realizing what he had just done, and quickly turned away from the wide-eyed servant.

After a long silence, Richard finally spoke.

"Send him away."

"Y-Your Highness?"

"Send him away," Richard repeated, his voice nearly breaking. "I cannot see him. I am... far too occupied."

The servant waited, hardly believing his words. Once he realized the king would speak no further, he left to follow his orders.

After hearing the door close, Richard knelt slowly to lift his chair. With the same lethargic movements, he returned to his seat, resting his elbows over his desk and burying his face into his hands.

_I'm a fool!_

For months, he dreamed of Asbel's visit. He waited so long for this one moment. There was nothing he wanted more than seeing Asbel - and yet...

How could he face him?

How could he stand before Asbel after everything he had done? How could he speak to him with the thoughts that now loomed in his head? And, worst of all - _how could he look into his eyes without breaking down?_

No. He couldn't face Asbel, for now.

But how long would _now_ last?

* * *

The sky changed from blue to orange to black as Richard remained in his study, mulling over his servant's words as he fruitlessly attempted to sort through his documents. Eventually realizing this was doomed to be an unproductive day, he stood and left for his room.

As he walked down the corridor that led to his chamber, he heard a frantic _tap tap tap_ of steps. Richard ignored it, assuming them to belong to a hurried servant on some errand, and entered his room without a thought. However, when he attempted to close the door behind him, he found it stuck in place. The tapping sound was gone.

Turning, Richard saw Asbel panting and holding the door.

Everything seemed to freeze around him. All he could do was stare, wide-eyed, as Asbel stepped inside and closed the door behind him.

"S-Sorry to barge in, Richard." His voice was soft, but his expression was anxious and concerned.

Unable to look into Asbel's eyes, Richard's gaze feel to the floor. He wanted to run, to dash out of the room and disappear, but he knew Asbel would stop him - he always did. Why did Asbel have to go to such lengths for him? If he had never taken their friendship so far, done so much for Richard without wanting anything in return, shown him so much kindness and devotion... Then Richard wouldn't...

He heard Asbel move towards him. Like a scared child, he locked his eyes shut, uselessly hoping that it could make him invisible.

However, instead of being ignored, Richard felt arms close around him. Strands of hair brushed against his cheek, and soft breathing warmed his ear. Asbel pulled him close, bound him tightly in his embrace.

Richard couldn't will his arms to move. He was torn; on one side, he knew he should step away, for Asbel's feelings were different from his own - but on the other hand, there was _nothing_ he wanted more than to hold on to Asbel and never let go.

Quietly, Asbel whispered, "I'm sorry it took me so long to come." He spoke the words slowly, breathing them in Richard's ear. "I wanted to talk to you the morning after the party, but you sent me away... A-And the letter I sent you... You didn't reply, and I... I thought you were mad at me. I thought... I thought you didn't want to see me anymore."

"...A-Asbel, I'd never..." Richard's words had left his mouth before he could think. He stopped, pressing his lips together; his breaking point was drawing close. He couldn't allow himself to burden Asbel with his feelings, to taint his happiness and make him feel guilty about his marriage. If he spoke another word and spilled his secret, Asbel would blame himself for his suffering. And Richard couldn't allow this to happen.

Slowly, he pushed Asbel away. "...Please leave." It was all he could muster.

Silence. Asbel stared at him, his eyes blinking in confusion, waiting for an explanation. Once more, Richard couldn't look at him, and his gaze fell to the floor again.

"Richard." Asbel's voice was pleading, but Richard remained still. "Richard, talk to me!"

"I asked you to leave!"

For a moment, Asbel seemed so hurt Richard thought he would obey. But instead, he muttered, "Is that... is that what you really want?" No answer. "I don't want to leave, Richard. I want... I want to stay with you."

Richard clenched his fists; that was too much. Closing his eyes, he blurted, "Shouldn't you be with your fiancée?!"

Asbel cringed at the harshness in Richard's voice, before crying back, "I don't _want_ to get married, Richard!" He paused, breathing heavily, as Richard stared at him with wide, desperate eyes. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about on the morning after the party. That's what I've wanted- No, what I've _needed_ to talk about, all this time."

Silence fell around them, Asbel breathing hard after his torrent of words, Richard still wide-eyed and unbelieving. Finally, he muttered, "Why... why don't you want to get married?"

"At... at first, I didn't really know," Asbel replied, his voice as hesitant as Richard's, "I was confused. That's why I wanted to talk to you. I thought... you could help me understand the reason I felt like that. The reason I still feel like that." He paused, looking into Richard's eyes. "But I... I understand it now. And I'm... I'm so sorry it took so long, Richard. If the Captain hadn't told me-"

A terrified exclamation interrupted him. _"He __**told**__ you?!"_

Asbel nearly jumped back. Richard's expression had twisted into one of sheer horror; both hands covered his mouth, and his wide eyes were glassy with tears.

"Richard?!" Asbel, confused, reached towards him. Richard staggered back, tears rolling down his cheeks - Asbel _knew_, knew how he had used Malik's feelings, knew the wretched things he had done... He felt Asbel approaching him, and he tried to step away, to run, to disappear, to do _anything_ in order not to face him-

But firm hands closed around his wrists, pulled them away from his face, and before he had time to realize what was happening... Asbel kissed him.

It lasted but a moment, only enough to make Richard stop struggling, but more than enough to leave him breathless. Asbel backed away only a few inches and stood close to him, looking into his wet eyes, still holding his wrists with trembling hands.

"I... I don't know why you freaked out just now," Asbel muttered, "But... what the Captain said was that... that you were in love with me." He looked down, blushing. "And... I realized I feel the same for you." His eyes remained locked on the floor, his cheeks a deep shade of crimson.

Richard was unable to react. He stood motionless and unbelieving, until Asbel timidly lifted his gaze and mustered a shy smile. Finally, Richard felt something inside him shatter.

And he was in Asbel's arms.

His thoughts were no longer coherent. He was weeping and smiling and laughing and sobbing, all while burying his face on Asbel's shoulder and clinging desperately to the front of his clothes. The situation was almost surreal to him, a horrible nightmare suddenly turned into an unexpected, blissful dream. Asbel's arms were enveloping him gently, stroking his back and his hair, and he whispered words that Richard could barely understand - but his voice sounded loving and sweet, and that was the only thing that mattered.

Slowly, Richard felt the pieces of his mind fall back together, and he slipped his arms around Asbel's torso to pull him closer. Finally, he could make sense of Asbel's words; "Richard, are you... are you okay?" In response, he tightened his hold on Asbel.

And he spoke, his voice hoarse and shaky. "I... I never... I never would've expected this, Asbel. I-I'm so sorry for not speaking to you that day. I couldn't... I couldn't bring myself to face you. And I made you suffer because of it-"

"_Richard,_" Asbel interrupted. "It's okay. Please don't worry about it."

Silence. Richard rested his head on Asbel's shoulder, still inhaling through gasps, and a slow stream of tears still flowing from his eyes. After a while, he muttered, "I... I slept with Malik."

Asbel flinched. The hand that caressed Richard's hair stopped mid-motion. For a moment, even his breathing seemed to have died down, and Richard was terrified - but then he felt fingers running through his hair once more.

"It... It doesn't matter, Richard." Asbel pulled him closer, tighter. "Whatever happened... or comes to happen... I just want to be with you."

* * *

There was no hesitation, no fear, no shame.

There was only warmth. Gentle and soft, sweet and tender, blissful warmth. Arms that were so familiar, yet an embrace unlike any he had ever been given. Skin on skin, each small touch coursing through all of his body, the most delicate contact escalating into tides of pleasure that dominated every of his senses.

He could smell his scent, earthy and homely and simply _Asbel_. An aroma that meant he was safe, that he would always be safe, for Asbel would never abandon him. On the corner of his eyes, he saw the disheveled auburn hair he loved so much; the short locks tickled his skin, and he couldn't help but smile. When Asbel turned to face him, he was smiling as well, mismatched eyes shining with a radiance that seemed out of this world.

Impossibly soft lips locked against his own, and he tasted a kiss, a warm and gentle mouth, tenderness that could belong to no one else. A long sigh escaped from Asbel's lungs, vibrating through his mouth and into Richard's, a shared breath that instilled them with new life. Their lips parted so they could shuffle closer, settle in each other's arms, intertwine their legs, press every inch of their skin together.

The warmth was becoming stronger, kindling a fire inside them. They moved in sync to a rhythm that increased with every second. Richard could hear Asbel's ragged breathing, hot against his ear, the only sound that was able to reach his mind under the thundering of his heartbeat.

Everything faded to only themselves, to the friction between their bodies, to the mumbled words of love whispered almost unconsciously. They repeated each other's names as if in a chant, their voices growing louder between every gasp. Faster, always faster, until there was nothing else in the world - nothing but them.

Finally, they slowed down, falling against the pillows in a tangle of limbs. Richard's heavy lids struggled to open, but he was rewarded with the most beautiful smile he had ever seen. Asbel's hand moved to rest over his cheek, and he leaned in for one last kiss before closing his eyes and drifting off to sleep.

In all of Richard's being, there was warmth. And, if there were also tears, they were not born out of sorrow and regret - but of infinite, overwhelming happiness.


	4. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

Malik waited in front of the carved wooden door. He examined the intricate pattern, the subtleties that came together in what was nothing short of a masterpiece. The dark wood stood in contrast to the pristine white marble floor, shining under the afternoon sunrays that peered from a nearby window. Barona Castle was certainly a sight to behold, from the grandiose structure to the smallest detail.

It was his first audience with Richard in almost two months. Since it was only a simple report on Malik's part, he was to meet the king in his study. A servant had gone inside to announce the ambassador's arrival, and Malik waited for his permission to enter.

The regal door finally opened. "You may enter, Ambassador Malik," the servant said with a brief bow.

Nodding, Malik stepped inside, and heard the door close after him.

Richard, who had been sitting behind his desk, stood upon his guest's arrival. For a king to leave his seat was quite scandalous, but Richard refused to follow protocol when he was alone with his friends. Among them, he did not want to be treated as royalty.

Still, Malik bowed. He was far too old to disregard ancient customs. "Your Highness, I bring you our most recent Fendel-Windor trade report."

"I thank you, Malik. Please, you may sit."

Malik looked up and met Richard's eyes. The king stood upright, his gaze calm and his lips curled into a gentle smile. Malik returned the expression, saying, "Per your request, Your Highness," and waited for Richard to sit before settling himself on a chair in front of his desk.

Richard leaned slightly against his seat, his posture proper and yet relaxed. "You've been doing well, I trust?"

The question took Malik by surprise. Inquiring about his wellbeing was an old habit of Richard, but something he had not done in quite some time. "I have, thank you. You're the same, I hope?"

"I am." Richard smiled again. "Anything new to share, before we proceed to business?"

Malik paused. He took a moment to study the king's expression, bright and confident and kind, before finally saying, "I stopped by Lhant on my way here. It seems Asbel and Cheria are no longer getting married."

At the mention of Asbel's name, a small hint of embarrassment crept on Richard's face. "I... I heard about it. It is... quite unfortunate."

"Oh, they're young. Better a broken engagement than an unhappy marriage. I'm sure they'll find true love elsewhere." For a second, Malik swore he saw Richard blush, but the king recovered his composed look in no time. Smiling, Malik continued, "Well, I should move on to the report before I get too sidetracked. You know how old people have trouble staying focused." He realized it was the first time in a while he told Richard a joke.

Richard laughed. "I certainly do. Dalen can hardly speak to me without changing the subject a few dozen times."

After flashing a wide grin, Malik began his report. And, as he spoke, a single thought persisted in his head; this was, too, the first in a long time he heard Richard laugh.

* * *

The meeting was carried out smoothly, and Richard bid goodbye with a smile once they were done. Malik left the king to his work and headed to his guestroom, glad for Richard's good mood. The rest of his routine as a visitor in the castle was carried out normally, and thankfully, without the looming darkness that had followed him during the past months.

Until, at night, he heard a familiar knocking on his door.

Malik froze, shocked and confused. He waited, wondering whether it had been his imagination, but the sound repeated itself, only even softer and more hesitant. There was nothing to do but opening the door.

As he expected, but still had trouble believing, Richard stood outside.

It took a moment before the king spoke, his embarrassed gaze struggling to stay on Malik's face. "I'm awfully sorry for the late hour," he finally started, "I spent too long debating this, but I realized it must be done. May I come in?"

Malik nodded meekly, and Richard stepped inside. He spent a few seconds glancing around the room, as if attempting to muster some courage, before turning to Malik once more.

And Malik finally realized what was so different about him. Richard's eyes were not distant - but certain and resolute. They had a sharpness, a brightness Malik hadn't seen in months. And those eyes gazed straight into his.

"Malik... I'm so sorry."

Silence.

Richard still looked into his eyes, and Malik blinked in confusion. He waited, expecting further explanation.

Richard continued, "I hope you can find it in yourself to forgive me."

"...For what?"

More silence; this time, accompanied by Richard's perplexed expression. After a while, he muttered, "Do I really have to elaborate?" His gaze fell. "For... for everything I've done. For everything I've made you do. I'm truly sorry, Malik."

Finally, everything clicked into place. Malik sighed. "Your Highness... You shouldn't apologize. I have my share of blame in it, too. And it's probably bigger than yours."

Richard lost his composure, blurting, "But I used your feelings, Malik! I made you suffer, all because of my own selfishness-"

"And can't the same be said about me?" Malik interrupted, his tone soft. "Don't blame yourself, King Richard. We made our mistakes. We should learn from them." He smiled faintly. "And I learned that my feelings were misplaced. Really, at my age, I should know when something is never meant to be."

Richard, now calmer, mustered a weak smile in return. "I supposed you're right, Malik." His smile grew a little brighter. "However, I feel the need to mention you're not nearly as ancient as you constantly make yourself to be."

Malik laughed. "Oh, resorting to flattery now, are you?"

Richard joined in with a soft chuckle, and then grew serious again. "Also, I... I must thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for speaking with Asbel. If it wasn't for you, I..."

"Now, now. No need to get gloomy. I'm glad everything worked out between the two of you."

"Malik... Thank you. Again." Richard's expression softened. "Yet, is there... anything I may do for you? I wish I could repay you, somehow."

"Ahh." Malik ran his fingers through his beard, thinking. "Yes, there is something I want you to do."

He took a step forward, placing his hands on Richard's shoulders. Finally, with a wide smile, Malik said, "Be happy."


End file.
